


New In Town

by LoyalandTrue



Category: Call of Cthulhu (Roleplaying Game), Dick Hardy's Investigators Office, Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28924647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoyalandTrue/pseuds/LoyalandTrue
Summary: Wren arrives in London, settling into her new surroundings and her professional life as an artist. A misadventure one evening will lead her to more adventure than she can possibly understand.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Dick Hardy's Investigators Office





	New In Town

“And that’s the apartment. It’s a bit modest but should be within your budget. What do you think, Ms. Sommer?”

Wren was absentmindedly looking out the window, checking the fire escapes of the building, mentally calculating how easily she could climb in and out without being detected.

“Excuse me? Ms. Sommer?”

“Oh! Yes. Yes I think this will do nicely.”

“Well then, let’s sign the papers, and I can get you the keys, then!”

Wren shuffled through the papers that were put in front of her, having to think twice before signing them. Have to make sure the right name gets put down. She signed the final paper with a flourish.

“Alright, Ms. Persephone Sommer, glad to have you as a new tenant! You’ll be able to move in within the week, let me know if there’s anything else you need from me.”

The landlady handed her the keys and gave her a firm handshake. Wren walked out with her, surveying once again the outside hallway. She’d specifically requested one of the highest floors of the building, so she could be close to the roof. Looking to her right, she saw a little head poking out of the neighboring apartment door. A little girl. Giving a quick wave, Wren could see her eyes widen, and a hand appeared at the door as well, returning the gesture, before a woman’s voice spoke out and the door closed with a quick snap. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, Evelyn, your housing situation all sorted out?” 

“Yes, yes, everything seems fine, signed the papers today. Neighbors seem…interesting. And the apartment meets my specifications, just as you’d said it would. Thank you Walter.”

“Of course, of course, it was…quite specific.”

He pulled out a handwritten sheet of paper.

“‘Tall Ceilings, easily accessible fire escape…at least 5 stories up, an open rooftop, located no more than 10 blocks from the nearest art supply shop.’ I won’t pretend it wasn’t difficult to find, but I am more than happy to help, especially for a talent such as yours. Your work shows great promise, and nearly every one of your teachers and clients had nothing but good things to say about you. I hope we’ll have many years ahead of working together.”

Wren smiled, pleased. Walter Tisdale was one of the finest art agents in London. She was fortunate to have even had the chance to be his client. Luckily one of her professors had taken a shine to her, and given her his contact information, as well as a glowing recommendation. She’d been happy enough to move to London, as good a place as any to start over, and Walter had been very accommodating, helping her to move and find all the local art spots.

“Now, I’ve arranged to have your work displayed at a small gallery, nothing too fancy, you’re still just getting your name out there, but the owner owes me a favor and was happy enough to oblige. You’ll have spots for five of your paintings, I think several of your existing ones would be suitable, but why don’t you see what you can come up with in the next two weeks, see if anything comes to light that’s worth displaying. We’ll meet again next week?” 

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then.”

With a firm handshake the two parted, and Wren made her way out of the building. She inhaled deeply, looking around at the bustling streets. Yes, this place was going to be very nice. But she had something she needed to do, to truly start to feel at home.

Ducking back into the building, she meekly asked the woman at the front desk, “Would you have a restroom I could use, perchance?”

The woman lazily pointed down one of the halls behind her. “Down the hall, third door on the right, can’t miss it.

Wren hurried down the hall, finding the restroom with no trouble, and ensuring no one else was present, she locked the door behind her and slammed her heavy bag onto the sink counter. With a flourish, she laid out all the materials she would need. Makeup, wigs, prosthetics, and a change of clothes. She hurriedly began deconstructing her Evelyn disguise, whipping off the red wig and wiping away the makeup she’d spent time putting together.

“Now who shall I be for my first adventure around London…”

She began putting together new details, covering her own blond hair with a brown wig, stripping off the rest of the makeup and pulling on a set of men’s trousers. Yes, at least for today, it would be easier to get around as a man. Fewer questions, should she be intercepted. Perhaps she was simply a factory worker, on her way home from a long day; or a tourist, who’d gotten a bit lost in the hubbub of the city.

New identity in place, Wren quickly shoveled her things back into her bag, and hurried out of the building, ducking her head to ensure the receptionist didn’t notice anything amiss about a strange man exiting the hallway.

And then, loose in the city, Wren got to work, investigating every nook and cranny, finding secret pathways, making this little part of London her own. It would take months before she knew it properly, knew it the way she’d come to know her college campus, where first she’d taken to wandering as someone else. And make it her own she did, painting every square inch of hidden terrain she could lay her hands on. Rooftops that no one every visited soon found themselves covered in a rainbow. Street signs suddenly had little doodles on them, sometimes of trees or of the sun, or sometimes a little doodle of a penis. Most of all, she left her symbol everywhere. A little songbird, sometimes flying, sometimes perched, but always there, hidden around the city. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-6 Months Later-

Wren’s foot was tapping madly under the table. This dinner party was miserable, why was she even here? No one here cared to talk to her, no one wanted to talk about the beauty of art or about anything worthwhile. Instead it was about money. How much they had bought such and such painting for, and how much they’d made when they sold it, or how much they could make when they did sell it someday. She sent Walter Tisdale, host of this miserable affair, a glare across the table, and he returned with a stiff smile and a nod, as if to say, “I don’t like it either, but we both have to be here.” That’s certainly what he’d say, if he could right now.

Another hour passed, and another. Wren smiled and laughed and did as she knew she was supposed to, to woo these charming people, these lovely people with the money that they wanted to spend on her art. By the end of the night, she was exhausted. Walter, however, approached her with a broad smile.

“Mr. Shelby has commissioned you, for a large portrait, and Mrs. Elmers wants you to venture out to her estate sometime soon for a landscape of her flower garden. Both high paying jobs, I’d say all in all a successful evening.” Wren slumped back in her chair, letting her wig begin to slip off her head. “Mmm. Successful, yes, very much so, I’m sure.”

Walter patted the back of her chair, consolingly. “I know it’s not your idea of a good time, but it’s important to get your name out there, to be recognized. Well, to get *A* name out there, anyway. Evelyn works as well as any.”

Wren straightened her wig, still not speaking much, as she began assisting with cleanup, gathering up the plates that had been left at the table. Walter took them from her hands, and said, “Why don’t you head out for a bit of…recreational art time. I can handle cleanup myself. I think you could use a bit of…recharging time.”

Wren couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face, as she hurried to grab her bag. She faltered for a moment, realizing she was still in her fancy dinner garb. Turning back to Walter, she said “Mind if I…”

He waved a hand at her. “Go on, you know where the powder room is. Do try not to spill any paint in there this time though?”

“That was once!”

“Twice, but who’s counting really. Go on.”

Wren stuck her tongue out at him, the closest thing she had to a friend here in London, and hurried into the powder room to deconstruct her Evelyn facade. Shaking off the wig and slipping on comfortable clothes, she pondered who to disguise herself as for today. Eventually, staring at the mirror, she decided she could do without a disguise tonight. She wasn’t planning on getting into too much trouble, anyway, and it would be nice, for once, not to have to be someone else.

Wren made her way across the city the way she preferred, clambering up fire escapes and traversing rooftops, flitting building to building where she could. Seeing the artwork she’d previously left put a smile on her face, and she stopped occasionally to add on to pieces she’d left unfinished, or touching up those that had faded. She struggled to find a decent place to start a new drawing though, nowhere seemed just right. 

Eventually she made her way back to the ground, taking a bit of a different route than normal. Oh, there were many places on this street she could add her little touch to. How had she missed it until now? That bar over there could do with a few bright details added to the facade, and a little bird would go nicely on that lamppost. But where to start, where to start…

Wren had to do a triple take before she believed what she saw ahead of her. Outside of a building hung a small sign: “Dick Hardy’s Investigator’s Office”

Oh, she knew exactly where to start. The fact that sign did not already have a penis doodled on it was a travesty of epic proportions, and she intended to correct that promptly. She set to work, and after just a minute or two she’d added a tasteful penis to the sign, as well as a tiny bird in the corner. Perfect.

She took a moment to survey the rest of the building. There, on one of the upper floors…

She hurried across the street to have a better look. Yes, there, through that window. A blank wall, unadorned, just begging for a mural of some kind. She glanced up and down the street. Surprisingly empty, for London. And the front of the building would be easy enough to climb. And at this time of night, if anyone even lived there they were probably asleep. And oh that wall was just begging for some colors. 

Walking briskly back across the street, Wren nimbly climbed the front of the building, without hesitation. Arriving at the window, she crossed her fingers as she tried to slide the window open. Lo and behold, it was unlatched, and slid open easily. Gingerly she stepped through, placing first one foot down then the other. It seemed to be an office of some sort. With a giggle she realized it might very well be this Dick Hardy’s office. Well, he could thank her later for her work.

Quietly, ever so quietly she laid out her paints, and set to work. First a pond appeared, reeds growing around the edges, a beautiful swan sitting in its center with its wings spread in their glory. Next, a tree, behind which a fox peeked out, its expression quizzical, seeming to look at the swan. Then, a sky, light and fluffy clouds seeming to hurry their way along. Finally, Wren began incorporating as many penises as she could into the scene. After all, this was Dick Hardy’s place, right? She hid some among the reeds, others in the texture of the tree’s bark. 

Standing back, Wren surveyed her work. A proud grin spread across her face. A shame, really, that this wasn’t on a canvas. Walter would love to sell it. 

Realizing she’d left out the last detail, Wren reached blindly behind her for the paintbrush she’d just sat down. Unfortunately, she missed with her first grab, instead knocking a heavy lamp off of the desk. She froze, realizing too late what she’d done, as the lamp landed with a heavy crash on the floor. She strained her ears, listening. Maybe no one was here, maybe she was fine. 

To her horror, though, she heard a thudding, and suddenly found a nearby door thrown open, and a man standing there.

“S’There? Ruth?”

He seemed to take a closer look at her, and his eyes narrowed. He reached clumsily, grabbing a gun.

“You’re not Ruth.”

Wren gave a little shriek, holding her hands up.

“Umm…I can explain. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why I’m here,” sputtered Wren, the gears in her head whirring as she tried to think of a reason for this man not to shoot her.

“The hell you think you’re gonna steal from in here?” he asked, gun still pointed at her squarely.

“Hey! I’m not here to steal anything, thank you very much,” said Wren indignantly, forgetting to be afraid for a moment. 

“Then what the f-…” It was at that point the man seemed to notice the painting supplies scattered at Wren’s feet, and his eyes traced across them, eventually landing on the wall. He stared for a minute, looking from Wren to the wall, back and forth.

“How did you…get in here, exactly?”

Wren gestured to the window, with a shrug. “It was unlocked.”

He strode to the window, gun still in his hands but seeming to only sort of point it now. He looked down at the street below before turning back to Wren.

“And you just…climbed up here?”

Wren shrugged again. “What, like it’s hard?”

He seemed to survey Wren again, taking in all this information. From the window, to the paint, to her bag. “And do you…do this much? Break and enter?”

“Okay, well, again, it was unlocked, so I think at most it's trespassing. And…sometimes, when I feel like it. When I see something worth painting. Your wall was begging for some paint.”

He finally put down the gun, and Wren relaxed her posture. 

“You ever wanted to use your skills a bit more…productively? For some money?”

“Are…you offering me a job?”

“I suppose I am. Maybe. On a trial basis. If you prefer I can call the police…”

“No! No. I…might be up for a job. What kind of job exactly?”

“Mm…nothing too…exciting. If you’re interested, come back May 4th.”

He fumbled in the desk for a moment, pulling out a business card and handing it to Wren, and then extending a hand. 

“Dick, by the way. And your name?”

Wren shook his hand, trying to give herself time to think of a good alias. She just had to say any name. But instead, she found herself saying, “Wren. Wren Gray.”

“Nice to meet you, Wren Gray. Now could you please get out of my apartment?”

“Oh. Uhh…right.”

Dick walked towards the front door, as though to let her out, but Wren piped up, “Oh, I can let myself out easily enough.”

She scooped up her supplies, stuffing them back in her bag. She kept out a single paintbrush, though, the one she’d intended to grab when the lamp got knocked over, and ducked quickly to the wall, adding a hastily drawn wren to the branches of the tree before scrambling out the window and into the night.

Dick walked to the window, watching the strange woman disappear down the front of his building. Closing the window firmly, he let out a sigh. “I swear, don’t know what I’m thinking. Between her and Ruth I’ll have break-ins every night.”

He turned and surveyed the new mural on his wall, for a moment.

“S’pose I’ll have to get a fresh coat of paint now.”

Just as he was about to head back to bed, though, he squinted his eyes, and turned his head a bit, studying the painting.

“Wait. Is that a-…”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it! This is an intro and explanation to how my character, Wren, joined the Call of Cthulu campaign. She's a chaotic art baby and I love her so much.


End file.
